Lives of the Sons
by tomfletonhater
Summary: It had been seven years since Abel left the sons. Seven years since Abel had thought of them and now Abel is back. When Jax teller calls Abel to tell him that his younger brother Thomas is going down the same path jax did Abel runs back to the town and the club he thought he left behind.


Seven years. Seven years of absence. Seven years of Abel Teller not talking to his brother or the members of the club. Seven years since Abel had set eyes on the small town of Charming and yet as he soared down the road he could see the worn sign welcoming him in a disdainful way as he passed it. Maybe Charming didn't want the prodigal son back. It was his surname that had spilled the blood the town built its foundations on.

he had learned in high school how infamous his father and the sons had been to the people of Charming. And it was only a few years later that he had learned who was responsible for his mother's murder and the anger that came with that knowledge. he gripped the handle bars tighter recalling how he'd fought with his father. It had only been one word uttered past Abel's lips that set his father on fire.

Gemma!

His father had thrown a glass against the far wall cursing as the glass shattered.

"Who told you," He demanded gruffly. He stared Abel down and when Abel didn't answer he continued. "Jesus Christ. I don't want that name uttered in this house. I didn't even want you to remember that name."

"I remember her just fine," Abel said back, equaling his dad's stare down. "Did she really kill my mother?"

Jax with a sigh ran his hands through his greased blonde hair.

"That's why Gemma's gone Abel,"

"Did you kill her?" Abel asked him before realizing it sounded like an accusation.

"I almost did," Jax replied taking a seat at the kitchen table. "And then I thought of you and your brother and what your mother would have thought if the violence carried into your lives,"

But the violence had carried into both of their lives.

Abel focused back on the road as he roared down the only main street Charming had. Lined with ma and pa shops, either thriving or with for rent signs hanging in their windows. Winter had come and gone with the clutches of spring noticeable. Signs hung from the street lamps in lurid colors, different events declared that Charming would hold that month while groundskeepers planted new shrubbery along the sidewalk. It was the same old Charming that it had always been and would always be.

People stared as Abel pulled into a parking spot, turning off the loud engine of his Harley and pulled off his helmet. Some even showed a sign of disgust as they turned and moved down the sidewalk faster.

It wasn't a surprise to Abel. He had expected that kind of welcome from the people of Charming. The club's welcoming would be something different, something he partly anticipated, partly dreaded.

It had been seven years since he'd been a part of the club and seven years still wasn't long enough. Instinct caused his hands to touch the back of his shirt where the club tattoo inked into his skin. Sighing he placed his helmet on the handle bar and sauntered up to the ice cream shop that had played as both the club's cover and business to fund whatever the club needed funded. Even if the funds when to some pretty questionable.

Not much had changed since Abel's departure. Glass windows covered the entire front of the store from top to bottom. The same old ice cream signs were peeling and fading off the windows in crumbling pieces. Even the open sign flickered in protests. As he opened the door the smell of bleach and sweets sent a wave of childhood nostalgia through Abel. A thousand memories spun through his head: ice cream piled high on a waffle cone, soda either too hot or too cold, his father's laughter even if it wasn't full of happiness. The sadness in Jax's deep-set blue eyes, the strength of his big hands around Abel.

It sort of felt like he was homesick for the man who had failed to protect his mother against the club and their violence

He cleared the lump from his throat and moved to take a seat at the ice cream bar. "Cant a decent guy get some service around here?"

Chuck Marstein turned to face the customer he mumbled about being rude, the words almost inaudible under his breath before noticing Abel. He hadn't changed much except for the large amount of wrinkles that lined his face and gray that spotted his eyebrows. He froze in the middle of the aisle, the ice cream scooper slipping through his prosthetic fingers and clattering on the floor. The shrill sound stirred Chuck.

"Abel?" it was less a question and more a statement.

"How are you doing Chuck?" Abel asked.

Chuck shook his head, still dazed and confused at Abel's sudden appearance.

"Fine," he licked his lips and picked up the scooper and tossed it into the sink. "Where have you been man?"

Abel looked around the shop, his eyes resting on the witnesses who were slowly passing by, staring into the windows. A few hesitated on the sidewalk their eyes bright with anticipation, like they were waiting for another fight to happen.

"Its been a long drive chuck," he responded roughly wishing he had asked for a soda, "Can you tell the others I'm here so I don't have to repeat the same answers over and over."

Chuck nodded and headed up the stairs to get the club members. Abel couldn't help but notice in the back mirror how dirty he looked from the ride. Dirt clung to his skin like a girl in the middle of a lustful night, dusting his blonde hair and beard creating the sense that he was older than twenty-five. Where Thomas had gotten most of their mother's dark looks while Abel had inherited his father's fair looks.

In theory he wondered if that was why people were trying to see who he was, maybe they thought he was his father and that was why they were looking into the shop like they had seen a ghost.

He wasn't or at least he hoped he wasn't his father.

He stood rounded the bar and used a wet towel to wipe the dirt off his face, leaving the dirty towel in the sink for later. Abel took one more glance in the mirror. He was rough angles like his father with broad cheekbones and pointed chin that was hidden behind his golden stubble. His eyes were a mixture of blue and green, like storm in the middle of a storm. He heard shouting from upstairs and Abel started to feel like it was a bad idea to come back. How would Thomas react to the older brother being back? Would he assume that Abel would want the Vice president patch back so he could take over after dad resigned? The questions overwhelmed him and Abel ran his hands through his blonde hair as he heard the footsteps heading down the stairs. Maybe I should just go. The thought played in his head viciously before he could turn and leave Thomas was at the top of the steps, his face blank from shock.

Thomas looked like their mother with short black hair that he styled in short spikes, s face full of angles and curves with deep-set brown eyes and a smile that he barely used.

"Abel?"

"Hello brotha,"

"Abel." his face did not stretch out into his familiar smile Abel once knew. No seven years had changed his brother. Was it for the better or for the worse? "What are you doing back?"

"Long story short dad called."

"Dad called you?"

"Dad..."

Just the his air choked off...Chibs grabbed Abel up into a bear hug if you could call what the old man was doing as a bear hug. "Good to see ya brotha,"

"It's good to be home," Abel replied as Chibs pushed him out to arms length.

"Welcome home," the way Thomas said the words made this place seem a little less like home and more like a prison.


End file.
